


Can't Outrun Myself

by dcjuris



Series: Being Human [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PTSD, established wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:29:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcjuris/pseuds/dcjuris
Summary: Sam's mind won't let him enjoy his morning run. Dean is there for him. (These works are not in any order at all, other than the way they come to me.)





	Can't Outrun Myself

Sam's a mile and a half into his morning run on a peaceful Tuesday. The sun peeks up over the edge of the horizon, bathing him in gentle warmth. A bird warbles from a tree overhead, just barely audible over his headphones. But the hammering in his chest and the sweat soaking his body has nothing to do with any of that.

_Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam—a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back._

Forty-five words. Forty-five words Sam knows forward and back. Forty-five words seared into his brain the very first time he heard them. Today, they're playing on repeat in his head.

He turns up the volume on his headphones.

They cleared it up years ago. He knows it's not the actual message Dean left. Ruby or Zachariah—or fuck, both of them—manipulated the recording. He remembers the look of sick shock on Dean's face after he worked up the liquid courage to ask his big brother about it.

_Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak._

He picks up his pace, tries to get lost in the _thump-thud_ of his feet on the pavement, makes himself focus on his surroundings.

_Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you._

He cranks up the volume again, glares at his phone as it warns him the sound is too high. Can't do any more damage than the voice in his head.

_Well, I'm giving you fair warning._

Fuck it. He needs to go home to the Bunker. To Dean. He grits his teeth as he turns back and sprints. The pace is much too hectic, even for him. His heels send spikes of pain up his legs, his calves twist and cramp in protest.

_I'm done trying to save you._

His heart slams against his ribs, and for a wild second, he imagines that it's also trying its best to get to Dean—the rest of him be damned.

_You're a monster, Sam—a vampire._

He turns the last corner and he could just fucking cry as the long driveway to the Bunker comes into view. Almost there. Almost safe.

_You're not you anymore._

He slings his full weight against the door as he turns the knob, flinching at the resulting _bang_.

_And there's no going back._

"Sam?"

_Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak._

He's blind now, tears and sweat stinging, stealing his vision as he trips down the stairs.

Dean and Cas meet him at the bottom.

_Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you._

"Are you—"

Sam shoulders past the ex-angel and collapses into Dean.

_Dean. Dean. Dean._

Dean doesn't ask what's wrong. He just raises his arms and pulls Sam in tight. Sam presses his face into Dean's neck, breathes in deep, soap and cologne and Dean—that leather-gunpowder-gore scent that's woven into Dean's mitochondria.

"I gotcha," Dean murmurs. "Shhh." He settles a hand on the back of Sam's neck and threads his fingers up into Sam's hair.

The touch is a balm, instantly soothing his nerves. His head feels loose and heavy, like it might fall off—a bowling ball balanced on the head of a pin. His breathing comes in stutters and gasps, but Dean's ready for it.

Dean rocks them from side to side. "Easy, tiger. Just breathe with me."

His brother breathes slow and deep, exaggerated, so Sam can synch up with him. Eventually, he does. He sags further into Dean's embrace as his mind finally gives up the mantra and his body stops fighting.

Dean doesn't let him go though, and there's no way Sam can articulate his gratitude.

He remembers a passage from dad's journal about him teething and crying the whole time, unless Dean picked him up. It's always been that way—no one has more sway over his heart than Dean. His big brother is the moon to his tides.

"Cas, go flip the pancakes," Dean instructs.

Cas leaves without argument.

"The voicemail?"

Sam nods.

"We're brothers," Dean tells him.

Sam can't stop the strangled sound from escaping.

"You know, we're family. And no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change." Dean squeezes the back of his neck. "I gotcha, baby boy. We're brothers."

He says it all again, over and over, until the shaking Sam wasn't even conscious of slowly stops.

Dean takes a half-step back, pushes Sam's hair away from his face, tucks it behind his ears. "Pancakes sound good?"

Sam almost chokes on a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, pancakes sound good."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also a published author. If you like my writing style, check out my published works on Amazon by searching "DC Juris" - that's me. :-)


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